How to Become a Pirate Girl Extraordinaire
by pinksharpie
Summary: Felicity Eaton is a salty sailor at heart. Unfortunately for the 13 year old the most adventure she gets is exploring the mysterious dark abyss of...the kitchen sink at her mother's brothel. Not exactly what she had in mind. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER : A way of saving one's own ass (Dogma moment sorry). Anyways, POTC characters are not mine, including the sexy eyeliner wearing individual (and you all know who i'm talking about). I do own however Felicity and her charming whore buddies (insert unenthusiastic 'whooo' here). AND DON'T BE THINKING ABOUT TAKING THEM BECAUSE THEY'RE ALL I'VE GOT IN LIFE. Well not really but you get the point. **

**A/N : This is after POTC 1, and POTC numero dos is not in mind. This story is in the first person narritive, so I talk in a 'piraty' style since the main character is not exactly the Queen of England. Try not to let it bother you and just go with the flow and who knows. You MIGHT enjoy it! mouth falls open**

**SUMMARY: Felicity Eaton is a salty sailor at heart. Unfortunately for this disgruntled 13 year old, the most adventure she gets is exploring the mysterious dark abyss of...the kitchen sink at her mother's brothel. However her oppertunity arises when Jack Sparrow blows into town looking for new crew members. Will this saucy lass finally get the adventure she's dreamed of? **

Chapter One: Stowaway

Hell.

Exactly what I've gotten myself into.

The throbbing in my head is a constant reminder of what a stupid, impuslive, girl I am. The floor rocks more and more, as if to taunt me, and the food in my gut which sits precariously in my stomach.The crude knife that I had stuffed into my belt is starting to look mighty friendly, but I shake such thoughts out of me mind. I was once told by Father Jenkins that suicide is a mighty sin. Although I'm not sure what more possible damage it could do to my religious record, I'm not willing to find out.

So with these thoughts, I sits. And sits. And waits.

And then I find the rum.

* * *

I betcha you're wonderin' what sorta purgatory I landed myself into arn't ya? Maybe you've heard of it. It's the little ole boat called The Black Pearl. 

But lets start from the beginning.

My name is Felicity Eaton and i'm the sauciest, cockiest, little tart from here to Timbucktu. Or at least thats what those salty sailors at the brothel where I work tell me, amongst other things, everytime I give 'em a bit o' cheek. But don't be jumping to conclusions and thinkin tha' I'm a whore because I ain't. At 13 years old ( at least I think), I'm far to young, and scrawny to be to any of the men's liking. Instead I occupy the position as official dishwasher, although on occasion I'll go out to the men to collect tips. I have this routine where I stick out my lower lip all weepy like and look up at them with wide eyes. This melts their black hearts along with their wallets, and they cough up their pretty pennies while saying things like, "Just like my daughter back home" or "You remind me of my little Franny". However, sometimes my act gets me the wrong kind of attention, and the sods tell me that I remind them of "other" things. That's my cue to grab the tip and scram.

The other girls resent me for my methods of earning money, especially since they have to resort to other methods. I can't help it though. I wasn't made for whorin'. Even my mum tells me. Every day it's "Fee, why can't you be more demure" and "Fee you walk like a man" or "Fee, why are you so crude?" You know it's bad when a whore calls you crude.

Well, oneday I'm washing the stale rum out of one of the mugs when Addie, one of the younger gels, comes dashing into the kitchen with a wild look in her eye.

"Everyone! Captain Jack Sparrow's in town!" Addie's outburst receives a mixture of reactions. The majority of the girls swoon as they place weak hands to their foreheads while the more experienced ones start scowling and clenching their fists.

"Jack Sparrow! Handsome devil he is!"

"Well, that handsome devil owes me a week's wage!"

"He slept with _you?_! But he said I was his one true bonny lass!"

"Haha one true bonny lass my arse! Join the club lassie."

"Who's Jack Sparrow?" I ask, setting aside the semi clean mug when my curiousity becomes to strong.

"Who's Jack Sparrow?!" Molly, a veteran here at Lilly Anne's Layhouse says incredulously. "You've got to be shittin' me darlin. He's only the captain of the infamous Black Pearl!" Molly adds, "That owes me 5 shillings, the cheating bastard."

"When's he comin'?" Lucy breathes, her eyes hungry with desire.

"Tonight!" Addie shreiks. Lucy grabs Addie's hands and they dance around the kitchen like frenzied poultry.

"Fee, you'll be a doll and take over my serving shift woncha Fee? I've got some business to attend to," Addie coos, while giving me pleading eyes. I scoff and agree even though I practically invented the puppie eyes, and shes doin'em all wrong. Addie squeals with delight and I'm covering my ears to block out the horrific sound.

* * *

Everyone knows the moment that Jack Sparrow enters the brothel. The room goes unearthly silent, and the only sound that can be heard is the steady thud of his boots on the hardwood floor. I freeze in my spot near the bar, and crane my neck inorder to catch a glimpse of the famed captain. From my position all I can see is a swaggering man with a wild mane of matted hair and randomn trickets, topped with a red bandanna and tricornered hat. I'll admit that he's as handsome as Addie says, and them some. He's also followed by an equally handsome man who was surprisingly not mentioned by anyone of the gels. I find a foolish grin spreading on my face as I relinquish my station by the bar and make a bee line through the crazed women towards the mysterious duo, armed with two mugs of rum. They have taken a seat in the back, and I can now hear their voices. 

"Jack, I told Elizabeth that we were looking for new crew members, not pleasant company!" I hears a smooth barritone voice say. The mention of new crew members sparks a desire deep inside me tha' is to strong for me to ignore. It's not quite the prospect of being near the ocean tha' is so alluring, but rather the concept of having a choice. An option. Hope. The simple thought that my future is not predetermined as a whore. That I could be something else.

"Come'on Will, live a little, mate. It's only a matter of time before 'Lizabeth brings out the whips and chains and ties you down to the married life," A slurred voice responds.

"Can I interest you gentlemen?" A feminine voice that I presume as Addie, asks seductively.

"How 'bout some rum, love."

"Rum?" Addie repeats confusedly. Tha' wasn't exactly what she was expecting him to say. I see my oppertunity arise to introduce myself, and I push myself through the crowd toward's Jack's table bearing the beloved rum. I ignore Addie's murderous glances as Jack's eyes light up with joy.

"Splendid! What's yer name girl?" Jack drawls merrily.

I smile sheepishly at my feet and says, "Felicity Eaton, Mister."

"Captain," He corrects and then flips a coin in my direction which I catch instinctively. It's obviously an inclination for my leave, but I stay impishly rooted to the spot. Jack observes this and says, "Ye be wanting somethin', poppet?"

"I hear yer lookin' fer crewmembers, Captain," I says all polite like. When there's no immediate response I straighten out my back, bring a stiff hand to my forehead and belts out, "Felicity Meredith Eaton at your service suh!" Jack scrutinizes me for a momen' and then bursts out laughin, the cheeky bugger.

"Jack, I think she's serious," The charming curly headed man next to him says. I nodd vigoriously.

"Don't pay no attention to 'er, She's a little touched in the head," Addie cuts in as she leads me forcefully away. I try to resist, but her fingers tighten around my wrist like an iron vice, and I yelps in pain. "Go back to yer mommy now, or else I'll tell her what you've been up too and you'll get a whippin, you will," She hisses in a low voice, when we're out of ear shot of Jack and Will. I wretch my arm defiantly out of her grip, stomp on her foot and take off towards the kitchens. It is at this moment where I make up my mind to leave this hell pit forever and somehow find a way onto the Black Pearl.

I burst through the kitchen like a madwoman, ignoring the scowls and grimaces from the cooks as I make my way to the my humble abode, which is basically a closet with a cot. I grabs me a knapsack and starts stuffing it with anything in my reach. Mainly shirts and breeches. I frown at my collected items, wondering if they well suffice. I think of Jack and his eccentric attire. Will I need to look like that if I want to be a proper pirate? I suppose I could nick Addie's kohl stick and line my eyes like him, but something tells me it won't look quite right. Besides, she'll send the Spanish Armada after my sorry arse to scour the entire ocean if she finds out that I took it. I shrug and heave my knapsack over my shoulder, and make my way back through the kitchen, where I grab an apple, some bread, and a sorry looking knife that looks like it couldn't harm a fly.

I approach the exit, take one last glance at my home sweet home, and step out the door.

And I suppose that brings me to the present. Sneakin' on the ship was deffinately no difficult task since everyone was out and about town or dead asleep. I make myself comfortable in what seems to be a storage closet, and have been there now for what seems like an eternity. The sea sickness is brutal, but I drown my misery in the rum that I found.

And that's the last thing I remember before hearing the faint sounds of footsteps aproach my hiding spot.

* * *

Like it? Hate it? Currently wondering why you wasted 5 minutes of your precious time on this earth? Tell me, although preferably in a less harsh way :D 


	2. unpleasant surprise

**A/N: Not alot of response to my first chapter, but no bother! (smiles maniacally as hand edges to chainsaw. Finds lock on it and frowns.) **

**Thank you too Chicaga my brave lone reviewer:D **

**ENJOY!**

**pinksharpie**

Chapter Two: Unpleasant Surprise

Clutching the rum bottle in my hand like it's the most precious thing in my life, I brace myself for the inevitable. Worse case scenario's flood my rum soaked brain as the footsteps get louder and louder.

_That's it. I'm done for. Pirates don't take nicely to stowaways. _

_And I drank their rum. _

_Blast! Stupid girl! You drank their bloody rum! Quick hide the evidence and maybe they'll give you a quick and painless death. _

I stare at the rum with glazed over eyes all stupid like, thinking of ways to dispose of it. The only solution that pops into me drunken mind is to drink it. All of it.

I tip back my head and guzzle the bitter sweet liquid, smacking my lips when i'm finished. It is at this moment that the footsteps have reached their climax, and then stop, right outside the storage closet. The thunderous beating of my heart fills my ears as I look up with dreading eyes at the jiggling door knob, which eventually gives way and allows the door to open with a morbid creak.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!" I recognize the man who is looking down at me with a mixture of shock and disdain as Jack Sparrow. I flash him an apologetic smile as I stand up on unstable legs and nonchalantly kick the empty rum bottle behind a mop.

Another familiar man joins Jack.

"Jack whats wrong -" Will starts, his voice trailing off as he takes in my ragged appearance.

"Arn't you tha' Fiona girl?" Jack demands, pointing an accusing finger straight at my nose.

"F-felicity," I correct feebly.

"Oh no..." Jack starts, getting a fearful look in his eye. "You...you ain't me daughter are ye?"

I furrow my eyebrows confusedly and shake my head, a little to much for the room starts to spin, and the food in my gut starts to rise up threateningly into my throat. However I steady myself on the door and push the reluctant food back down where it belongs. Jack's regid shoulders lower in releif as he expels a giant sigh. "Good..you 'ave no idea how many of those annoying wenches we get stowin' away claimin' to be me long lost daughter, or sister, or neice, or whatever."

"Yes, and they always have such strange names," Will adds wistfully. "What was the last girl's name? Radiance Starlight?"

"Hey don't look at me, mate. It's not like I'm the one who names 'em," Jack says, holdin' up his hands in mock surrender. "It's the whores who seem to have such demented imaginations." I smile and nodds politely, not knowin' what the heck they're talkin' about.

"Well then...you his daughter?" Jack asks, motioning towards a now terrified Will. "Eh, Will? You and 'Lizabeth get a little too frisky a while back?" Jack continues, nudging Will with his elbow.

"No sir, my pa was a Irishman, he was," I insist, wondering why these men are questioning my ancestrage when I thought they'd be makin' me walk the plank or somethin' pirate like.

"It's CAPTAIN...CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW. Am I bloody speaking French?! Why is it so hard for people to remember?!" Jack exclaims, making wild hand gestures that cause the exotic beads in his hair to jingle delightfully.

"Maybe it's 'cause yer not a very good captain," I suggest, suddenly feeling bolder, and I dunno whys.

"You think it's wise girl, being impertinent to a pirate captain?" Jack inquires as he narrows his eyes at me, prolly tryin' to strike some feeling o' fear in me.

"You think it's wise girl being im-pert-nent to a pirate captain?" I parrot back in a high falsetto voice. My eyes widen as I realise what I just did, and I'm wonderin' what sorta devil has posessed me to do such a thing.

_That rum is some powerful stuff_.

My hand flys instantly to my mouth, as if I can grab the words and put 'em right back in my trap.

Jack rolls his eyes heavenward, as he mutters unintelligable obscenities under his breath and then messages his temples.

"Lord, why are you constantly sendin' me annoyin gels?" He pleads to no one in particular while kneading the sides of his head furiously.

I shrug. Eh...I've been called worse.

"So what do you say, Mr. Turner," Jack asks suddenly, snapping out of his misery. "Should we make her walk the plank, or keehaul her?"

_WHAT?_

"...Jack?" Will says warily, suddenly looking alarmed. His apparent concern for my well-being makes me get these butterfly sensations in my gut. He really is a beautiful boy.

"I know, I know. Not harsh enough punishment. No worries, I have something that'll have the girl shiverin' in her boots." By this time I'm fearin' for me life so much that I don't even point out that I happen to have a name and it ain't 'the girl'.

Jack looks me straight in the eye, grinning maliciously as he husks slowly, "We'll give her over to Elizabeth."

Before I can inquire as to what sorta demon this Elizabeth is, I start getting the butterfly sensations again. But no, it ain't butterflies in my stomach, it's...it's...

I puke.

On Jack.

------------------------------------

DUN DUN DUN

That is probably the most mortifiying thing that can ever happen to anyone. Puking. On Jack Sparrow. The horror.

P.S.

Yes, you've probably noticed she has a little crush on a Mr. Will Turner, but don't worry. THIS STORY IS NOT, I REPEAT NOT A WILL/OC FIC.

As much as I dislike Will, I will not write him as a pedifile.

You just have to understand that Felicity is thirteen, and Will/Orlando Bloom is practically a magnet for crazed preteen girls armed with his posters, lunch boxes, and this weeks issue of YM that features him on the cover. However, I'm not comparing Felicity to these "Lyke omigahh!" girls who are frighteningly a part of the future of the world , I'm just saying that shes thirteen, and it's not exactly a shakespearian age. At least it wasn't for me.


	3. Fancies of Fortune

**Disclaimer : I own nothing. Nada. Zilch. Bleh. **

**But perhaps a well publisized hunger strike will change that? Hmmm must look into that...**

**A/N: More reviews! Yayy thank you Second Star to the Left, anotherblastedromantic, Nerds United, phantomphan1915, and chicaga! I dedicate this chapter to all of you...so i hope you like it because it kinda ruins the dedication if you think it's crap, no pressure or anything..heh..heh..ENJOY**

**pinksharpie **

Chapter Three: Fancies of Fortune

Have you ever seen Captain Jack Sparrow truly angry?

I have, and let me tell ya, it ain't a pleasant sight. Albeit, there's also the fact that he's covered in my last three meals. Infact I think I can make out the beef stew that I had last morning on the front of his shirt. Hmmm...dosn't look any worse than when I first ate it...

"DAMN IT, MY EFFECTS! AGHHH!!"

"I'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorreeeeee!" I wails, as I start towards Jack inorder to assist him with the bile running down his front, but then think against it as the seething pirate covered in questionable substances convinces me otherwise.

"Don't just stand there, Will, git me another shirt!! Someone fetch a mop and clean this bloody mess!" Jack shouts through clenched teeth as his face turns an unhealthy shade of purple.

"I'll do it!" I volenteer brightly, hoping to redeem myself. I turn and run in no specific direction, ignoring Jack's hoarse protests and the fact that I ain't got an idea in hell as to where the cleaning materials are.

Unfortunately, it seems the Gods of Fortune have decided to take this oppertunity to collect on me debt of uncanny luckiness. For these reasons, (or at least I claim) I don't see the rebel plank of wood sticking out of the smooth surfaced deck, until it's too late, and my foot snags on it. Now if this were a normal situation, I would simply fall to the ground, and at the most, receive a scraped knee and a bruised ego. But no, I must've angered the Gods of Fortune sometime in my past for as I fall to the ground, I take down an innocent bystanding man with me, initiating a domino effect of doom. This man, who I will later know as Mr. Gibbs, stumbles forward into another man, who falls and knocks over a bucket of water, causing yet another unlucky fellow to slip and fall, but not before the cutlass in his hand cuts through one of the sails, tearing a decent sized hole in it.

_Oops. _

Slowly I rise from the ground, surveying the damage that lays before me like the remnants of a battle field. There are a couple of groans and some moans about aching legs and backs. Jack is motionless, staring with mouth agape at the whole in the mast, his new shirt only half on. Slowly, his head turns to me.

"I knew you weren't me daughter. Ya' know why? 'Cause your the bleedin' daughter of the devil! The spawn of satan!"

I suddenly find myself the target of the majority of the crew's angry glares. I smile meekly in response, hoping to lessen the murderous tension in th' air.

"I can fix the sail. Honest," I suggests. "I've got a mean cross stitch that'll do the trick."

"Jack, it was an accident," Will says in my defence. Again, the treacherous butterflies in my stomach.

"Ya, well how 'bout I _accidently_ wring her scrawny neck."

"Jack, you don't mean that," Will insists.

"The hell, I do."

"_Jack._"

"Fine, fine," Jack sighs, rolling his eyes in surrender. Turning to me he says with an extrememly forced smile, "I'm not mad at you Felicity. Yes you managed to take out half me crew along with one o' the sails in a single fall-"

"She also puked on you, Captain," A brawny man with a thick brown beard says.

"Right," Jack says grimacing. His face contorts into a look of disgust and a shudder runs through him as he relives the moment. I clears me throat t'bring Jack back to dear ole earth. "Err, ya, but the point is...I ain't mad at ye." There is a twitch in Jack's left eye, and a vein in his temple pulses violently, but other then that, I'm convinced that there are no hard feelings.

Suddenly one o' the cabin doors bursts open, revealin' a slightly annoyed woman dressed in pirate attire standing in the doorway. I can literally feel the attention of the ship shift from me to the beautiful lady pirate with glossy caramel locks. I am greateful for the break, and take the oppertunity to expel the stale air that i've kept pent up in my lungs.

"Will, what on Earth is going on? I could've sworn we were under attack," She says, striding with the grace of an aristocrat towards Will.

"We've got a stowaway, Elizabeth," Will answers, enunciating the syllables in 'Elizabeth' with the lightest of gentle breathes. Now I'm no expert on love, but I can right away detect that sadly, William is a lost cause. A pity really; I sensed such a connection between us. Oh well.

Bending down so that she is eye level to me, Elizabeth says, "Well arn't you just an adorable little thing!" in a voice that I thought only reserved for babes scrubbed pink and dressed in bonnets and frilly dresses. I have the powerful urge to give her a taste of her own medicine, and tell 'er that I wish I could say the same thing about her in the same annoyin' voice, but considerin' my situation, and the fact that her beau is watchin', I decides against it.

"Thanks," I replys flatly.

"I'm Elizabeth Swann," She says, probably sensing the bitterness in my 'Thanks' for she drops the baby voice.

_Elizabeth Swann...why does that sound so damn familiar?_

"Ain't you the Guv's daughter whats gone off and gotten buggered by some pirates?" I implores sincerely.

"Well, you certainly will fit in with that mouth of yours," Elizabeth observes in a disapproving voice, as she straightens up her back so that she is no longer eye level with me, but now looking down.

_Well, someone's got their knickers in a knot. _

"Elizabeth, get the girl situated with her sleeping quarters and her duties." Jack orders morosely.

"And what are her duties?"

"An eternity of deck swabbing. Starting now."


	4. Jasper

**Disclaimer: Don't own POTC characters, but I do own Felicity and Jasper and if you steal them I will unleash my fearsome army of frolicking, rainbow dancing, joy spreading, Jack Sparrow snatching Mary-Sues on you. Be afraid. Be very afraid. **

Chapter Four: Jasper

"Bloody pirates," I mutter irritably under my breath, as I follow Elizabeth to the familiar storage closet.

"We'll have to work on that mouth of yours," She chides, opening the door to the location that I called home for the pass couple days. After rummanging through the closet for a few moments, Elizabeth steps out, producing a grimy looking mop.

"I present to you, oh aspiring piratess, your fearsome weapon." She declares with mock formality. If I was a sweet tempered girl I would laugh and smile goodheartedly, but I ain't. Instead, there is a sullen look plastered on my face that is probably horrid enough to frighten small children.

"I guess all that's left now is your sleeping quarters," Elizabeth continues when shes senses my temper is not to be improved. "I guess you'll just be pulling up a hammock, probably next to the ships boy." My ears perk up at this.

"My, my that sounds quite scandalous, Elizabeth!" I tease dramatically. "Next to the ships boy? You might as well throw me into the garden of temptation!" I add some complimentary kissing noises to this since I'm feeling exceptionally wicked.

"Oh, you won't be thinking that when you see the ships boy," Elizabeth replys wryly.

I frown at this. I hope that he isn't too bad for I was hoping to gain a friend or two since half the crew is convinced that I'm the anti-christ.

We continue below deck, until we arrive at a more grimy portion. I immediately think of the junk drawer in my old room, except instead of being littered with baubles, quills, and foreign coins, there are coils of rope, sheets of canvas, a shovel, and an old rusty cannon that looks like it hasn't been used in ages. In one corner, a hammock is strung up sloppily. A boy is swinging idely in it, but at the sight of Elizabeth, he springs out, landing clumsily on his feet.

"Hello, this is Felicity. She's going to be the ships girl, so I'd appreciate it if you were kind and showed her the ropes around here."

The ships boy nodds dumbly, obviously temporarily awestruck from being directly addressed by Elizabeth.

"Alright then, I'll leave you two to get properly aquainted," Elizabeth says, apprently satisfied with his response. She flashes me one more smile before gliding (because the bloody woman don't walk, no she glides) out of the room.

I take this oppertunity to study the supposed horrid ships boy. From what I can see, he ain't bad at all; an agreable face and posture. He looks to be about my age considerin' he is no taller than me and no plumper. More muscular, perhaps, but more plumper, no. All in all, I could see no apparent defect in the boy, that is, until he opened his mouth.

"Your a girl!" The sandy haired boy states incredulously. His voice is dripping with disgust, along with his sniveling nose. I watch with indescreet revulsion as he wipes away the excess snot with the back of his hand, and smears it on his shirt like a badge of honor.

_A prime specimen of the male species, I'm sure._

"Good observation. Now that we know that your not completely mental, what be yer name?" I says in me best imitation of the haughty whores with painted faces and permanent scowls, to show the boy that I ain't to be pushed around.

"Jasper," He answers cooly, obviously not pickin' up on my insult, which puts a right ole stich in my side. I nodds offhandedly and says nothin'.

Jasper rubs his freckled nose habitually as we lapse into an awkward silence.

_Freckles_, I thinks. _Just like mine. _

Infact, me and Jasper could be regular brother and sister, that is if my hair was the color of straw and not coffee beans. We, do however have the same light dustin' of freckles on the tops of our cheeks and the bridge of our noses.

"I betcha yiz can't swordfight since yiz are a girl," He proclaims, after what seems like an eternity of silence. "I can swordfight just foine, now."

"Well, I'lll learn, mind you. I'm a fast learner," I says, with more edge to my tone. I find that i'm not liking this boy, more and more.

"You can't learn to swordfight!" Jasper exclaims with an outraged face that suggests that I just proposed that I'm the bloody Queen of England. "Girlies are good for one thing, and _one_ thing only."

"Right, and like _you_ would know," I retorts back, not liking the effect this conversation is having on my pride.

"I would _too_ know! I'm very well learned on the facts of life."

"Alright, then Romeo, why don't you explain the facts of life to me since I'm just a dumb girly." I challenge, prodding my finger into his chest.

To my immense pleasure, I have found the crack in Jasper's cool facade. Immediately color floods his cheeks, and his naive, watery blue eyes widen to amazin' proportions.

"All talk and no walk, eh mate?" I tease, finding that redemption is indeed bittersweet; heavy on the sweet and light on the bitter.

"N-no that ain't true,"

"Than lets have it ole chap!" I cocks my head to the side innocently, eager for Jasper's, no doubt, twisted version of the birds and the bees.

"Well it-it goes a somethin' like this..."

* * *

Having an accurate knowledge of what _really_ happens when a man loves a woman, or in my experience, when a man has enough money to satiate the lady's demands, I can certainly say that Jasper will be very surprised when the time comes for him to become a man. Hopefully for him, he is corrected in his facts before that time comes, or else he will have a _very_ unsatisfied bonnie lass on his hands.

"Well you got me, Jasper...I must say that was certainly...erm... interestin'," I says, biting my lip to keep from laughing uproariously.

"Told you so. I know what I'm talking about, I see how Captain Jack Sparrow brings a different wench to his cabin everynight when we're in port."

"'That so. Well, I happen to know some of the gels who've had their poor hearts broken by Jack, so i've seen the consequences of Jack's rendezvous'."

"_Captain _Jack," Jasper snaps, ignoring the point i'm trying to make.

_Wonderful, another Jack idolizer. _

"Sure, sure," I say, rolling my eyes. "Anyhow, the ways I see it, we've got to stick together, you and I. Ya' know, be best mates."

"Best mates?" Jasper echos unsurely, not quite graspin' the concept I suppose.

"Ya, like friends. We'll watch each others backs 'cause beleive me, no one else is gonna look out for a lowly ships boy or ships girl."

Jasper shrugs absently and says, "Sure...I guess i'll be your best mate..."

I grins wholeheartedly at his reponse. We've got to work on the enthusiasm level, but other than that, i'm grateful to know that i'm not alone on this blasted ship.

* * *

**A/N: **

**phrase "the facts of life" SEX. Just in case you weren't sure and had no idea what I was talking about. Oooo lets talk about sex baby, lets talk about you and me. Lets talk about all the good things all the bad things...ok i'll stop now. **


	5. Encounters with a MarySue

**A/N: I'M ALIVE! BUAHAHHAHAHHAHA..ha...ha...uh yea. Many apologies to those who have been waiting for an update on this story. Hope this chapter makes up for the wait!**

Chapter Five: Encounters with a Mary-Sue

Day three of my eternity of deck swabbing finds me scrubbing unenthusiasticly at the perpetually dirty deck. The muscles in my scrawny arms scream in desperate protest, but I'm determined to not look weak compared to Jasper, who scrubs like he's grateful to wash any ground that has been blessed with Jack's grimey boots. This does nothing to improve my mood which is growing increasingly darker as the midday sun grows stronger until finally, I can't take no more, and throws down me rag in agitated defiance. I sit back on my haunches--my chest rising and falling rapidly as I look over at Jasper expecting some snide remark of how I should get my sorry arse back to work. But no, Jasper does no such thing. He don' even look up to acknowledge my insubordination with a fierce glower, something that he enjoys immensely. The _swish swish_ of his rag continues at an unbreakable pace that confounds me.

"You sick or something?" I ask flatly.

"'Dunno what you're talkin' about," Jasper answers all coy like as he continues to scrub.

I narrows my eyes suspiciously at him, searching shrewdly for a reason for his flippant behavior. "Somethings up."

The swishing stops.

This is a wise move on Jasper's part, for my foul mood happens to have a close correlation with my loose fists.

"Alright then, lets have it."

He sighs, resigning his vow of silence. "I've heard some stuff is all..."

"Like what?" My curiousity is peaked.

"Well, it seems we're headed into port soon." The subtle uncertainy in Jasper's voice has me sensing that there is far more than what he's sayin.

"And?" I persist, the impatientness in my voice surfacing.

"And thats it!" He growls, running a hand through his lemon hair to distract me from the blush growing on his cheeks.

_Hmmm..._

Some gels who encounter a peice of information that needs to be extracted from a man, go about getting it through simpering giggles, soft words, coquettish smiles, and other means. I however have a different technique that has about the same success rate.

"OW ME BLOODY EAR!!"

I pinch harder on Jasper's ear with the wrath of a vengeful governess.

"Just say the magic words!" I chirp brightly.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T LET GO OF MY EAR!!"

"Wrong!" I put a little more strain on the ear, which receives a wild howl from Jasper. _Fairy._

My face, upturned in satisfied victory fails to see one of Jasper's flailing arms which catches me sharply on the chin, causing me to bite down hard on my tongue. Cursing, I release my hold on his ear, allowing Jasper to regain his balance and tackle me to the hard unforgiving ground. As I thrash around wildly on my back I discover that my technique, or rather my lack of technique needs much improvement. Then before my reflexes can react, the slimy bastard pulls my arm in a painful lock behind my back.

"OW, OW, OW, OWWWWW!" I have to hand it to him, for all the grief I give Jasper about having effeminate tendencies, he sure can handle himself in a scuffle. I remind myself to ask him about this move in the future.

"You. Are. Such. A. Pain. In the arse!" His ragged breathes tell me that the fight was not so easily won. A little bit of my pride is restored. "I'll tell you alright? They're going to drop you off at Port Isabella when we dock tonight!"

Jasper drops my arm, but the feeling of releif is bitter-sweet.

To find that the place that has become my home no longer wants me gracing it's glorious deck is a definate blow to my senses.

Without warning, I turn on my heel and take off wildly. My head is reeling from utter truth, which feels as if it has carved a gaping hole of misery into my stomach. I pay no heed to the disgruntled crew members who curse me for my carlessness as I dodge there bodies clumsily in a desperate attempt to get to a place that has been specifically laid out as forbidden to me: Jack's cabin.

I stagger to the double doors, gasping for air. The weathered frame looms ominously over my doubled over form, giving me the eerie feeling like I'm awaitng judgement at the very gates of Heaven itself. Or Hell. Most likely Hell.

I watch the rusty knob.

It could use some cleaning, actually.

A little spit shine would do the trick. Maybe then I'll be able to see my reflection in it-- a dirty face staring in, daring myself to twist it and permit myself entrance.

I do.

I already have a mini speech formed in my head, a montage of pleas and promises that I'll be good. Unfortunately when the cabin doors swing open, spilling the harsh caribbean sun into the darkened room, the distinct shrill of a woman's scream beats the words from floating to my lips. It seems that I have walked in on the passionate embrace of Jack and his, uh, pleasurable company for the night. _Shit. _

Fortunately for my fragile and easily tainted young mind, the undoubtedly nakedness of both subjects is hidden by a sheer bedsheet. Miss Blue Eyes, the unfamilar guest sharing Jack's bed and the suddenly modest and reformed prostitute, hugs the sheets to her chest, all the while shrieking her bloody head off.

"OUT OUT OUT OUT!!!!" Jack roars, sitting up, and giving me a perfect view of the tanned expance of his chest. Apparently he has decided that shirts are a nusiance and not a nessesity to life. Miss Blue Eyes seems to think the same about dresses.

A ragged boot soars by my head, causing me to tear my gaze away from the sight of tangled legs and bedsheets and slam the door shut, in case of more flying projectiles. As I mumble hurried apologies through the wood, I think of how this was deffinately not how I imagined things would go. How was I supposed to know that Jack picked up more than a nuisance stowaway at the last port? I was, after all, confined to a stuffy closet for the first days of my journey.

A voice rings out from beyond the door. "Ja-ackkkk, who was that?"

"A DAMNED DEAD GIRL!" is the gruff response. This is my cue to run.

--------------------------------------

"Right, right. But didja see the breasts??"

For the millionth time, I assure the eager sailors sitting like innocent babes in a semi circle around me that almost all dignity was preserved from my intrusion. The disappointment on their faces is enough to make any ole mum's heart bleed.

After my quick departure from the cabin, I immediately sought out Jasper, someone I knew I could confess to the latest of my misadventures. However what started as a single astonished face quickly transformed into a full on storytime to at least half the crew. Even the ever pious Mista Gibbs, came about, wanderin' like he's checkin' the ropes, or somethin' or other.

Ah, but alas, what seems to be my debut as a grand story teller also seems to be my finale curtain drop. Jack enters the scene, stage right, and he is mighty pissed off.

"Sorree gents, but it seems that our time is up. Ta-ta for now!" This is met with hearty groans and "Already? She was jus' gettin' to the good part!"'s.

I weasle my small body past the crowd of men before I am sighted by the hawk like eyes of Jack. I am successful in this feat, but before I get a chance to lay out the welcome party to Lady Luck, who appears to have returned to me from a temporary vacation in the North, I run into the second worse possible person. Miss Blue Eyes.

"Oh!" She gasps, laying a milky white hand to her chest. I find, to my great pleasure, that she and her dress have set aside their differences, and reunited.

"Er, uh...ya..."

Small talk was never one of my strength. Especially when I've already seen the person's skivvies, dangling carelessly from a lantern.

So, as I struggle inwardly to find a proper conversational topic for Miss Blue, let me describe her to you.

She is beautiful, of course, for there is no other type of female companion for Jack. Her eyes are that gushy blue that is described in metaphors involving "saphires", and "oceans", and other things that make me want to gag. She is not exceptionally tall, but is still quite taller than me. My head reaches just above her bosum, which is by the way perfect, but I bet you've guessed that already. In other words, men will throw themselves at this angel--while tripping over me in the process--in a futile attempt to be fortunate enough to have those azure eyes flicker with disinterest at their inferior faces for a mere second.

"You are uh, ze _le fille_ that walks in on me and my Jacque, no?" The wench is a frenchie. I find this strange considering the port that I came from is a colony of Her Majesty.

"Yes...that'd be me," I murmer, my face warmin' with shame. "My name is Felicity."

"Oh such a adorable name for the leetle _fille de pirate_!" She decides to emphasize this point by planting a wet kiss on each of my cheeks.

"Thanks," I growl, rubbin' the side o' me face raw with the inside of my sleeve. "What be your name madem-mo-zel?"

"Tch," She chides, furrowing her brow. "You English, always your butchering of ze le français. Anyways, I do not remember my name. I 'ave...oh...what you say...amnesia...yes it is amnesia."

My eyebrows shoot up. "What has Jack been callin' ya then?"

The Name-Less Frenchie Who I Will Name In The Near Future blows a lock of hair from her face in shallow fustration showing that all is not well in paradise. "Jacque, he calls me many different names...I think they are names of ze _other_ women, but he says ees not true."

I can't help but snort.

"Ha, you laugh," She snarls, showing that even she has fangs. "But let me tell you, I am very im-por-tant to Jacque. The only thing that I do remember ees that my father was ze famous pirate Pierre Lafitte."

That's convenient.

"_And,_" Miss Hoity Toity spits showing that she's not done. "He left me weeth a special key opens much treasure! All we need now ees the map that ees in ze hands of zat awful Captain Wolfe."

"And where does _zat awful_ Captain Wolfe preside?"

"At ze next port. Infact I think eet is right there on ze horizon!"

I spin around, and my heart sinks. Sure enough, there is port, my last stop.

------------

So what do ya think about Miss I Have Amnesia But Yet I Remember My Dad's A Famous Pirate And Left Me With A Key And Oh Yea I'm Smokin' Hott? Seem familiar? Like she's been in every other POTC fanfiction? Good. Because she represents all that is Mary-Sue, channelled into one foreign hottie.


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